


Cheerio

by VoteSaxon45



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Funeral, Gen, More sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5200484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoteSaxon45/pseuds/VoteSaxon45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I like writing sad things about Doctor Who...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheerio

The coffin was slowly lowered into the ground. A few words were spoken by the priest, and then the little family was left to mourn in peace. A woman with fiery hair and streaks of silver. An older woman who’d gone completely gray. A taller, darker man who held his wife’s hand comfortingly. They sniffled into their handkerchiefs for a few minutes, and then left the gravesite. The woman with graying, orange hair dropped a bouquet of forget-me-nots inside the chasm in the earth that held her grandfather. She didn’t know why she’d picked that particular kind of flower, there was just a feeling in her gut that told her to. When she left, a young man poked his head out from behind a tree and ran to the still-open grave. “We’re about to fill the grave.” the impatient gravediggers said to him. The man looked at them apologetically. “Yeah, sorry. I just need to put something in.”  
“Hurry up, then.”  
The man smiled and approached the edge of the grave, holding a little wooden box. The wind rustled his thick hair as he peered inside the box at the old soldier’s revolver. He’d never given it back. He closed and locked the box, and then placed a rose he’d bought on top before dropping it gently into the earth. “Cheerio, old friend.” the stranger said with a sad smile and a salute. He smiled half-heartedly at the gravediggers and went on his way, his tweed jacket flapping in the wind behind him. 

Just before getting into her car, Donna spotted the man in the tweed jacket and suspenders walking away from her granddad’s grave. “Who’s that?” she demanded. Her husband looked over her shoulder at the man and shrugged. “You don’t know him?”  
“Never seen him before in my life.” Donna said. Her face went blank as she stared at the stranger dreamily. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” her husband asked. She looked up at him, and then back at the grave. The man was no longer in sight. “I dunno… it just… feels like I know him. You know what I mean?”  
“Yeah. He must have one of those faces, then.”   
They climbed into the car and sped off. The dirt crashed against the old man’s wooden coffin.


End file.
